We hide in the barn. That's all."
"That's enough. They'll search the place, automatically. You're
talking suicide, you know."
But his mind was working rapidly. He was a country boy, and he
knew barns. There would be other outbuildings, too, probably a
number of them. The Germans always had plenty of them. And the
information was too detailed to be put aside lightly.
"When does he think they will meet again?"
"That's the point," Pink said eagerly. "The family has been all
over the town this morning. It is going on a picnic, and he says
those picnics of theirs last half the night. What he got from the
noise they were making was that they were raising dust again, and
something's on for to-night."
"They'll leave somebody there. Their stock has to be looked after."
"This fellow says they drop everything and go. The whole outfit.
They're as busy raising an alibi as the other lot is raising the
devil."
But Willy Cameron was a Scot, and hard-headed.
"It looks too simple, Pink," he said reflectively. He sat for some
time, filling and lighting his pipe, and considering as he did so.
He was older than Pink; not much, but he felt extremely mature and
very responsible.
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